It’s mean. I know it is. But it’s the truth.
Kingston’s handsome face falls.
“I apologize, Gwenna,” he says. “I can understand why you wouldn’t trust me to protect you, but?—”
“I trust you,” I interrupt him. “I do. I trust that you will protect me. Honestly, that’s never even been in question. But I don’t need toforgiveyou to trust you.” Step, step. “And I don’t. I’m sorry if that’s hard for you, but I don’t need to.”
The song ends on a long, sustained note. Kingston lets me go, wordless, and I try not to relish the satisfaction I feel at the stricken look that’s still on his face.
“Thank you for the dance,” I say politely, tipping my head a little, keeping it all completely ordinary for anyone observingfrom a distance. “Now please leave me alone for the rest of the night.”
I turn to leave the dance floor, but not without catching someone’s eye.
Kai.
SEVENTEEN
GWENNA
After the ball,Kai’s the one to escort me home.
And it’s hard to say who’s less happy about it.
Outside the dining hall, he’s waiting, a cigarette between his teeth and the collar of his jacket turned up against the wind as stumbling, giggling couples and friend groups slip-slide their way home.
He sees me—us, me and Morgan—but doesn’t move.
“You coming, or what?”
“You two were taking forever.” He lifts the cigarette.
“Just go,” I whisper. “I’ll be fine.”
Morgan glowers, but nods, and clips off with a toss of her hair.
That leaves just me and Kai.
I fold my arms, the effects of Morgan’s warming perfume long dissipated, and pretend not to
Kai drags on his cigarette, its orange light flaring harshly over his features. Eyes hard on me.
Then he drops it to the ground and grinds it out with his heel.
“You could have finished,” I say. “I don’t care.”
“Oh, but I take pleasure in the sacrifice,” he drawls, the words escaping on an ashy exhale.
He sets off down the footpath without waiting for me.
Fuck.I gather the skirts of my dress in one hand and awkwardly rush to catch up.
“Thanks for waiting,” I huff, when I reach him.
He says nothing.
And for some reason, that just makes me want to push him.
“Your brother’s a good dancer,” I remark. Fake casual. Airy as can be. Remembering Kai’s unmistakable stare at us as Kingston led me around the dance floor.
